


I Feel at Home in Your Bones

by HollowNightmare



Series: Geraskier Week 2020! [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Platonic Relationships, Pre-Slash, Sad Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:41:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22793434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollowNightmare/pseuds/HollowNightmare
Summary: written for day 6 of Geraskier week 2020: found family“We’re not friends”.Oh, how many times he’d heard that sentence, coming from Geralt’s mouth. Not enough times to stop counting them, but enough times that Jaskier had stopped saying they were.They're not friends, not really. Guess what they are, though
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geraskier Week 2020! [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636423
Comments: 19
Kudos: 435





	I Feel at Home in Your Bones

“We’re not friends”.

Oh, how many times he’d heard that sentence, coming from Geralt’s mouth. Not enough times to stop counting them, but enough times that Jaskier had stopped saying they were.

Of course they were friends, the bard thought. How many times had Geralt saved his life? How many times had they helped each other? This — this had happened enough times that they’d stopped counting. 

Jaskier didn’t like how Geralt told him they weren’t friends. He didn’t like that the Witcher felt he should tell it, most of all. And really, what was the point in denying with your words something you were reinforcing with your every action? Jaskier could understand a lot of things, but this wasn’t one of them.

It wasn’t a matter of pride - Geralt didn’t value pride that much. And it most certainly wasn’t a matter of keeping appearances, because it was in Geralt’s best interest to be seen as his friend — the Witcher knew this, he was sure.

It was usually at this point in his reasoning that Jaskier decided it was time to think about something else. No point in overthinking it. He’d never understand it, the sooner he accepted this the better. He sighed, and resumed his previous activity — writing a song out of Geralt’s last hunt. He had killed a swarm of drowners and had gotten injured in the process, which would make for a nice moment of tension, he reckoned.

Right now, the Witcher was out, shopping for provisions, and Jaskier had found himself too tired and not poor enough to sing, so he was waiting for his friend ( _let’s not get into that again_ ) to get back so that they could have dinner together.

He had just about finished writing his song when Geralt stepped through the door, his hair and boots covered in snow. 

“Shall we go, then?” the bard asked, trying his hardest to sound cheerful.

The Witcher nodded, then stared at him for a few seconds. Jaskier elected to ignore him, and got out of the room, hoping he wouldn’t keep that up during dinner.

They ordered a soup (which was the only meal being sold at the inn) and ate quickly, in silence — they were both exhausted, and wanted to go to bed as soon as possible. But Geralt did think it strange that Jaskier hadn’t uttered a single word: Jaskier always talked, even if it was just a quick remark on the food, or sung a line from his latest creation. Sometimes he even talked in his sleep, which was something that the Witcher still found unsettling.

Once they were back in their room, they went straight to sleep. There was only one bed, and they had agreed they would both sleep in it, because it was late and cold and they just wanted to rest — so they got in, wrapped themselves up in every blanket they could find, and drifted off.

Geralt slept for five hours, then he woke up. The sky was still dark, but the birds were chirping already. It was still snowing, and everything was silent. He looked at Jaskier. The bard didn’t look peaceful as he usually did when he was sleeping. And before, at dinner — he had been troubled. Geralt probably would end up not asking him about it, but he could feel worry start growing in his chest.

An hour later, Jaskier woke up. He could see some stars in the deep blue sky. Dawn would break soon, but he still had time to go back to sleep. He sighed.

Geralt turned his head towards him, with a questioning look in his eyes. 

“Sorry, Geralt. Didn’t mean to wake you”.

The Witcher frowned. “You didn’t”.

“Oh. That’s alright then. I’ll shut up, now”. He turned his back to Geralt, who had seen the tension in his movements and had heard his defeated tone and was now officially worried.

Jaskier tried to fall asleep once again, he really did. But he had never been good at keeping his thoughts at bay, and he found himself spiralling down a path he knew like the back of his hand, by now, which always led him to the same, obsessive thought: how could they not be friends, in Geralt’s opinion? He couldn’t understand and it _hurt_ , it hurt _so much_. He sighed again, and the Witcher had enough.

“Jaskier. What’s wrong?” he whispered, concern in his voice. The bard never sighed, unless it was for dramatic effect.

And Jaskier broke down. He cried — silently, at first, then he started shaking and sobbing uncontrollably, and Geralt didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what he’d done wrong, didn’t know what was happening but Jaskier was crying and he had no idea how to make it better. He put an arm around the bard’s shoulders, gently, hoping the contact would steady him, somehow.

Eventually, Jaskier stopped crying, and answered, in a broken, feeble voice. “I wish you could see us as friends, Geralt. Because I think we are. We’ve been friends for a long time. How can you not- I’m sorry”. He was still shaking. “I’m sorry, just… forget it”. 

The Witcher exhaled slowly, and watched the snow fall.

* * *

They were back on the road by midday. Jaskier’s mood had improved — he had talked at breakfast and while they were getting ready, and now he was playing something on his lute and smiling at Roach.

Geralt, on the other end, had been extra quiet ever since he’d gotten up. He was thinking about Jaskier, and about what he’d said; he wanted to make things right, because it was clearly his fault that his bard was so upset.

The snow was falling slowly. The only sounds he could hear were their heartbeats, their breaths, their feet on the snow, and Jaskier’s lute.

Geralt sighed, and looked at the bard, who looked back at him, mesmerized by the snow on the Witcher’s silver hair.

“We’re not friends”, Geralt said, gently. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to say that you can’t see us as such, or that it’s wrong to do so”. He brushed some snow out of Jaskier’s hair.

“You’re not a friend, Jaskier. I don’t know what friends are. That’s not how I see the world, that’s not how I was raised to see it”.

“What are we, then?”

Geralt smiled. “Family”.

**Author's Note:**

> Geralt is a bit awkward and not very good at feelings but he loves his bard and he's trying.
> 
> I hope you liked it! Do tell me what you thought about it.
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](https://pengwings-are-cool.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Have a nice day!


End file.
